


Hard to Break

by JetWolf



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetWolf/pseuds/JetWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quite by accident, the girls learn Mako is smoking. Let's say they do not take it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard to Break

**Author's Note:**

> **Standard disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine. This should come as no surprise. I am simply a teller of stories that occasionally claw their way desperately out of my head.
> 
>  **Notes:** Another prompt from Tumblr. This one said: _Prompt: The girls find out Mako is a chain smoker (like her original design) and all react in different ways!_ So chain-smoking Mako it is!
> 
>  
> 
> _(16 January 2013)_

Mako knew it had gotten bad when she did it in front of Usagi.

Usagi had waited for Mako after school and together they made their way toward Hikawa Shrine. Usagi, bursting with all the energy she could never find for actual class, was animatedly telling Mako about how Haruna had sent Takeo-kun to stand in the hall. She hadn't really bothered to hide her delight that it wasn't her for a change. Mako had laughed (Takeo was a fucking jerk in Mako's book and frankly could do with several weeks in isolation as far as she was concerned) and lamented a rather boring day on her end. While she spoke, her hands were on autopilot. She wasn't thinking at all, and even when Usagi came to a screeching halt and gasped and looked at Makoto with complete incredulity and horror it took her a few moments to realize why.

Her fingers were frozen in the act of retrieving the lit cigarette that dangled from her lips.

_Oh. Shit._

* * *

Really, it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

That was the rationale Mako used, on the rare occasions she had bothered enough to rationalize it at all.

Of all the self-destructive things she FELT like doing at the time, smoking was pretty fucking benign.

Because she was angry. She was FURIOUS. She had rage enough for the entire world and was somehow expected to contain it in a child's body and it wasn't fair IT WASN'T FAIR.

She was ten when she tasted her first cigarette. The girl who had given it to her (Mako couldn't even remember her name now; they had all melted into a single featureless human shadow that represented "then") probably thought Mako was twelve or thirteen. Or just as likely she hadn't thought about it at all. Mako had been standing with the group on a corner somewhere in Yokohama, or maybe it was Saitama, staring sullenly at nothing at all when a few of the girls began to light up.

"Give me one," Mako growled. She didn't know why. Working out rationales for her actions wasn't exactly a running theme. The girl glanced at Mako for a second then shrugged before expertly slipping a second cigarette between her lips and lighting it. She handed it to Mako, who took it with a grunt meant to pass for "thank you".

Mako didn't pause to consider. She confidently lifted the cigarette to her mouth, took a long drag, and promptly doubled over as her body thoroughly rejected everything she was doing to it. The other girls laughed as tears streamed down her face and she tried not to vomit. The laughter only served as encouragement. Mako forced herself to inhale the whole thing, and then demanded another.

Later that night, when she'd slipped unchallenged through the front door of her latest foster home and actually DID vomit, she only remembered the feeling that she was taking control of SOMETHING. It had challenged her, that little burning piece of plant and paper, and Makoto Kino had bested it.

The next morning she bought her own pack from a vending machine and her first lighter from a corner store, and from that day onward she was never far from both.

Until Usagi and the others.

Until her purpose.

It hadn't been a conscious decision, not entirely. At first it was timing. Fighting youma until one or two in the morning left time for eating and sleeping and doing just enough homework to squeak by, maybe. She was usually so rushed she didn't think about it. Then when she did, the appeal had gone.

Mako smoked the last cigarette of her last pack a little over a week before they met Minako, and she hadn't missed it since.

But then, she'd never died before.

* * *

"Mako-chan." Usagi's initial horrified look had become one of narrow-eyed reproach. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing?" It was worth a try.

"You're SMOKING!" The way Usagi said it she could have just as easily accused Makoto of eating a baby.

Eyes widening, Mako shook her head in vehement denial. "No! I mean— Yes, but. But I didn't mean to!"

"When did you start? Is that your first?" With a speed that would actually be useful in battle sometime, Usagi lunged at Mako and dove into the taller girl's skirt pockets. Mako yelped and made assorted protest noises, but Usagi quickly emerged with her prize.

Opening the pack of cigarettes proved a challenge at first but, despite Mako's fervent hope that the investigation would begin and end here, Usagi quickly solved the puzzle and was gasping at the contents. Or lack thereof.

There were only two cigarettes left in the pack, and while Usagi couldn't have said with any degree of certainty how many were supposed to be in there, she knew darn well it should have been more than two.

Again a flat stare was directed against Mako, who felt herself begin crumble under its weight. "When did you buy this, Mako-chan?"

_Say a few weeks ago! Say you don't remember!_

"Last night," Mako mumbled, unable to meet Usagi's eyes.

Had the question been on her math test, Usagi probably would have gotten it wrong. But this wasn't her math test, this was her Mako-chan.

Makoto waited for the recriminations, steeled herself for Usagi's tears. When they never came, she glanced up and instantly wished she hadn't.

Usagi didn't just look upset. Usagi looked ANGRY.

Flinching violently, Mako quickly looked at the wall, the pedestrians, her shoes, anything else.

Slowly, Usagi slid the pack closed and into her pocket. "Everyone's waiting," she said quietly, and began to walk again.

She didn't look back to see if Mako followed, but Mako did.

* * *

By the time they reached the shrine, Usagi's anger appeared to have burned off. Perhaps she was hoping the unfamiliar emotion would be picked up by someone far more accustomed to wielding it.

If so, she was destined for disappointment.

"I can't make her choices for her, Usagi. What do you want me to do?"

Usagi shot Rei a look of unfathomable betrayal. "WHAT? You were all over me when you thought they were mine!"

Rei made a noise somewhere between a sniff and a snort. "That's you. If we DON'T make your choices for you then you wind up thinking that roller skating down the shrine steps is a GOOD idea."

"That was Minako-chan!" Usagi loudly protested.

"The point is," Rei continued, tossing her head and addressing her friend directly, "if you want to smoke, Makoto, that's your decision."

Still embarrassed but a little relieved, Mako opened her mouth to voice her thanks.

"If you want to waste your money on this garbage, it's your money to waste."

Mako closed her mouth.

"If you'd rather spend your time puffing on these things than be with your friends, that's up to you."

Mako began to frown.

Rei's expression hardened, and despite wanting to pull away, Mako found herself pinned under the intensity the other girl's stare. "If you'd rather kill yourself slowly than live with us, I can't stop you."

Then Rei blinked, and like a spell had been broken, Mako was free to look elsewhere. Which she did, immediately. Rei's voice had been quiet and oddly without inflection for a person who usually couldn't string five words together without loading them with emotion and hidden meaning.

This had been astonishingly, almost painfully clear. And still Rei wasn't done.

"Mako-chan," she said, not unkindly but demanding attention, not saying anything further until she had it. "I think this is stupid. I care about you and I want you to stop. I'll do whatever I can to help you do that. But it has to be your choice."

And with that Rei fell silent and no matter how much Usagi tried to coax her, she refused to say anything else on the subject.

* * *

Minako was next to arrive. Usagi was fidgeting in Rei's room, hovering anxiously near the entrance when she saw Minako's blonde head emerging over the top of the steps. Instantly Usagi was running across the courtyard.

Mako sighed and considered, not for the first time, just calling it a day. She'd gotten to the point of grabbing the handle of her bag when she caught Rei's look. She took in the slightly raised eyebrow, the unspoken challenge in it, and dismissed the idea of running. She'd have to have these conversations soon enough anyway.

When Usagi returned to the group she was tugging on Minako's arm, trying to physically drag her into this desperate battle to save Makoto, but Minako refused to be rushed. If anything, she looked even more casual and nonchalant than usual.

"So she smokes! What's the big deal?" Minako said with a laugh. She plopped herself down at the table and favoured Makoto with a large wink. "Probably makes you feel suave and sexy, am I right?"

Usagi spluttered and Rei rolled her eyes in disgust.

"That's really not what it's about," said Mako, watching as Minako snatched up the cigarette pack from the table.

Unlike Usagi, Minako had the pack open instantly, and wasted no time in fishing out one of the two remaining cigarettes. She held it between the V of her fingers and struck a pose that was probably aiming for sultry but landed somewhere to the left.

"[Watch out, boys,]" Minako said in smooth and entirely unnecessary English. "[Lady Super Cool is on the prowl.]"

The other girls shared a confused look. Mako shook her head and Rei rolled her eyes so hard this time even her shoulders couldn't contain their disapproval.

They entirely missed the part where Minako had also grabbed Mako's lighter from the pack and put it to its intended purpose. She inhaled deeply.

The coughing was bad – Mako knew from experience just how unpleasant it could be – but as with All Things Minako it wasn't enough to simply be a regular level of bad.

Minako didn't just cough, Minako HACKED. Long, violent, strangled sounds that saw her eyes bulge and her tongue dangle like a pink dead thing from her mouth.

Minako didn't just shudder, Minako CONVULSED. Tortured muscle spasms wracked her frame, leaving her contorted into shapes often reserved for complex geometric proofs, or perhaps a sadist's how-to guide for life drawings.

Usagi watched all this with mounting panic. Her head swiveled between Rei, Mako and Minako – Minako who was almost certainly dying, the cigarette had spread its evil and killed her instantly oh god.

Rei patted Minako's back in a gesture that was 50% comfort and 50% patronizing.

"What the shit?!" Minako finally managed to wheeze. Her illusion was well and truly shattered. She had examined cigarettes, found them wanting, and was now ready to firmly pick a side. "Oh hell no, Mako, you are NOT smoking! I, Minako Aino, will—"

But whatever Minako was going to boldly declare was lost in another round of coughing, this time with the added bonus of extremely loud and undeniably disgusting retching.

Mako leaned over the table and buried her head in her arms. She wondered if she could use the ginzuishou to get a do-over on this entire day.

"What's … going on?"

Oh yeah. Ami didn't know yet. Great.

* * *

Ami was aghast. She'd been at cram school and was looking forward to seeing her friends after. The fact that this is what greeted her, and from Makoto of all people, only made it all the worse.

And it didn't need much help in being worse.

"Don't you know how much damage you do to yourself with every cigarette?" Ami demanded of Mako. She was running full steam ahead in lecture mode though and not actually waiting for answers.

Which was just as well because Mako didn't have any.

Ami rattled off studies and findings, death rates and cancer rates.

It was the intensity of Ami's delivery that made Mako squirm. The statistics were all very large and unpleasant, but Ami had become a woman possessed. She wasn't just giving information, she was pleading with it. Despite being the focus of her ire, Mako couldn't help but be proud of her friend.

Still there were numbers and numbers and yet more numbers. All of which Mako was sure were true. But last time she'd quit simply by having her friends in her life. This time, despite having them, she'd fallen back into the old routine. She was desperately afraid of what it might mean to try to quit but fail.

* * *

Really though, it came down to one simple thing.

Usagi sat quietly in front of Makoto. She crossed her legs and took both of Mako's large, strong hands in her small, delicate ones. She gazed up at her guardian with no trace of the previous anger or frustration. There was no judgment.

Not for the first time, Mako found herself growing under Usagi's attention. Feeling every drop of the infinite love Usagi had to give. Knowing – knowing it as certainly as she knew her own name – that in this moment there was no person in the entire universe more important than Makoto Kino.

"I'm worried about you. I need you with me for a long time, Mako-chan. I can't lose you. Will you quit? Please?"

"Yes."

All the peace and earnestness of the moment vanished to make way for the enormous smile of childlike joy that broke across Usagi's face. "Really? You promise?"

Mako couldn't help returning the smile. "I promise." She glanced to her other friends and shrugged sheepishly. "I may need a little help though."

"DONE," Minako said, apparently having appointed herself group spokesperson. "We'll get you through this Mako, no matter what. Because that is really seriously disgusting."

* * *

They didn't waste time. Once the decision was made they all went to Mako's apartment. She had a partial carton left, and Rei made a huge ceremonial show of burning them. All the cigarettes gone, it was just a question of setting the new rules.

It turned out there were only two.

The first: not to buy any more cigarettes. The second: to confess when she had the urge to smoke one.

Promises were solicited, and Mako was heartened to see that her word was enough for her friends. From there it was business as usual, as though all the drama from earlier in the day never happened.

Which was fine for the first day, but by the second Mako was ready to climb the walls.

She couldn't help thinking it shouldn't have been as hard as it was. The cravings were intense. But, as agreed, Mako admitted to them every time.

It was soon clear that each of her friends had devised her own personal method of getting Mako past it.

Usagi and Rei, interestingly enough, had settled on amusingly similar tactics.

When Mako told Rei she wanted a cigarette, Rei's response was to simply stare at her. To stare and stare and keep staring until Mako relented and renewed her dedication to quitting.

Usagi simply said, "You promised." And what was Mako supposed to do about that? Exactly.

Whenever Mako confessed a craving to Ami, her friend was ready. She had taken to keeping with her at all times a folder. Inside the folder were dozens and dozens of pictures. Undeniable evidence of what smoking was doing to her. Sometimes Ami would just show her the pictures. Sometimes she'd theorize about what Senshi healing might be doing to the process, and somehow the idea that she was just lengthening an already losing battle was even worse. Ami continued to show pictures until Mako had once again agreed not to smoke.

Then there was Minako, who it seemed was prepared to annoy Mako into staying on the right path.

When Mako first tentatively admitted to Minako she wanted a cigarette, she wasn't sure what to expect.

When water was squirted in her face, she knew that DEFINTELY wasn't it.

Mako spluttered and whirled toward Minako, who had produced a spray bottle from seemingly nowhere.

"No," said Minako.

"But—"

Another spritz from the bottle did nothing to cool Mako's bubbling temper.

"NO," Minako repeated firmly.

"What is— What are you doing?"

Minako grinned at Mako then at the bottle in her hand. She pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession, finding delight at the water flying into the air. "It's great, isn't I? I used this to litter train Artemis."

"I didn't need litter training!" Artemis roared indignantly from Minako's lap.

She sprayed him for his trouble. "It works great," she told Mako, ignoring all wet yowls of fury.

Mako scowled. "I'm not a cat."

Spray.

"Cut it out, Minako."

Spray.

"I mean it!"

Spray spray.

"FINE I WON'T SMOKE."

"Good!" Minako said, and the bottle vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

All of these helped keep her from giving in to her cravings, but what Mako really needed was to make them stop altogether.

So she began to talk.

Mostly to Rei and Minako. Whenever Mako would bring up D-Point to Ami, all the blood would drain from her face and she hid behind simple facts and brusque specifics. Neither of these brought Mako much comfort, and whatever relief she DID find was worth nothing compared to what it did to Ami.

Then there was Usagi. She would become very quiet and shrink into herself, folding her hands in her lap and staring at them more often than not. She never refused to talk and was as open and direct as she possibly could be. Mako loved her for that. But to cause her Princess such pain only made the urge to smoke STRONGER.

Minako and Rei however had, it seemed, each managed to find some shred of peace. Or, Mako supposed, at least a compromise. That would be good enough.

It was a tough battle, but between Mako's determination and her friends' vigilance, love and support, Mako was again able to kick the habit.

She never smoked again.

Well, mostly.

* * *

They hadn't been easy to get. This was Crystal Tokyo, after all, and while it was impossible to completely stamp out all human vices, healthier and more positive alternatives had filled those voids for a large portion of its citizens.

But not all.

Most things could be made available if you had the means, the connections and the desire.

Makoto Kino had all three in spades.

The Black Moon attack was still a fresh wound, and the constant realization of how close they'd come to losing everything – AGAIN – was laying on her mind. Crushing it.

And let's not even get into the implications of what Small Lady had done in the past.

Just thinking about it made her head hurt. Mako wasn't built for all these questions. Mako was built for punching things until they went away.

At the moment, Mako was also built for smoking.

She stared at the object in her hand. Her first pack of cigarettes in countless hundreds of years.

That was another thing, right? She was nearly a thousand years old. A THOUSAND!

If she wanted a fucking cigarette she'd surely earned one by now.

Mako held the pack under her nose, breathing deeply, savouring the rich smell of tobacco. Slowly, unwrapping it with delicate precision, Mako pulled the foil aside and unsheathed a long, flawless, almost beautiful cigarette.

At her mental command, the conductor rod extended from her tiara. One small zap later and the tip of the cigarette was burning. Mako smiled, slow and full of anticipated satisfaction. She lifted the filter to her lips.

Then gasped in surprise as a spray of cold water hit her directly in the face.

"What the f—" she began, then spied the still-dripping nozzle that had literally appeared from nowhere in the crystalline wall. She was so perplexed she didn't notice as another nozzle appeared near her hands, emerging from behind a seamless panel. It spluttered once and a small jet of fire burst out – not enough to hurt but designed to catch attention.

Which it did, admirably. Mako jumped away with a cry of alarm, dropping both her lit cigarette and the pack in the process. The fire nozzle swiveled as it tracked its targets' trajectory then shot a blast of intense flame that completely incinerated the lot within seconds.

Mako stared with disbelief as ash drifted softly to the floor. All that time, all that effort. She hadn't even gotten one puff.

But the response cycle wasn't done yet, and a pre-recorded chorus of four familiar voices piped into the room from unseen speakers.

"You promised, Mako-chan!"

"Seriously?" she called out to the air. "SERIOUSLY."

And then Mako really DID never smoke again.

Although she remained angry and refused to do more than glare at anyone for at least an hour.

Which was deemed an acceptable trade-off.


End file.
